More Words
by NeverTooOldToBeNerdy
Summary: Very short drabble, could be Angst wrapped in Fluff OR Fluffy Stuff with a coating of Angst - your pick. I wonder if thia might be the start of a new series of fics for me? Review if you feel inclined. (it will help me decide)


**A/N: No idea where this came from. I was drifting off to sleep and suddenly, BAM! I had the computer on and the document half typed before I knew what I was doing. **

**Nice to know I can find my computer, turn it on and find the right program IN THE DARK.**

**I'm really hoping this is just a random thought, and not something the universe is trying to tell me about myself or someone close to me (and yes, that happens more often than it should)**

**Spelling mistakes are my own fault, as is the random capitalisation (I'm sure it's there for a reason – even if that reason is sheer laxity of grammar)**

_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Glee related, except some boxed sets and a couple of books.**_

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It was the short one today.

The short, loud girl with the shining hair and the huge eyes.

The watcher sat in the sunlight that streamed in through the window and listened to the chatter the girl kept up, almost as if she didn't need to breathe.

The short, loud one usually made him smile and roil his eyes, even if she did make him tire quickly.

Still, the short, loud one usually came with the tall clumsy one, and he always made him seem more relaxed and calm.

The pretty, blonde one could do that too.

Actually, there were several of them.

The pretty blond one with the quiet voice would speak softly about all manner of topics and he would nod and smile or frown at the appropriate intervals.

Sometimes the pretty blonde one with the girlfriend would come.  
The pretty blonde girl, that is, and she would dance in the sunbeams or the shadows of the trees in the garden and her Spanish speaking girlfriend would tell rude jokes or stories and the blush they would engender would reach almost down to his knees.

Sometimes the pretty blond boy would turn up, with his impressions and his wide eyes and...

The black girl always made him laugh; silent tears of joy would roll down his cheeks and...

...and sometimes the tears would be of sorrow or pain or fear and she would just hold him and rock him gently and tell him that he was loved.

The boy with the eyes was certainly loved.

Visitors came every day. Certainly none of the staff could recall a day when there hadn't been at least one visitor for the beautiful boy with the sad eyes.

The Asian couple, they were nice, and the tall scary woman, and the big beefy woman and the Man with the chin.

If the man with the chin brought his...wife, or whoever she was, it was always amusing to see her struggling against the fears and compulsions that seemed bent on limiting her activities.

She was a brave woman, she deserved a name too.

The Red Haired Woman, that was simple.

The Wannabe Tough Guy came a lot, with his funny hair and his leather jacket.

The big football type with the eyes full of pain, he came all the time too.

He and all the others would talk or sing or laugh or cry or shout or rail against the world or against god or for god or...

If push were to ever come to shove, however, it had to be the Boy with the Golden Eyes who meant the most to him.

Even the Father didn't rate beside him.

The boy was the only one who didn't try to fill the silence with words or music or laughter.

Oh he would sing if he was asked to, if the Beautiful boy asked him to he would sing or chat away.

But much of the time they would simply sit, holding hands and leaning against each other as they watched the leaves dance in the trees.

The Boy with the golden eyes knew.

The others thought that the Beautiful boy had lost his voice, but the watcher knew better.

When the boy had first come here, months and months ago, the Beautiful Boy that is, there had been words heard in the gardens and the sun room and in the hallways.

_Cancer._

_Genetic History._

_Mother._

_Nodules._

_Secondary Sites._

The others thought that the Boy with the sad eyes was silent, but he wasn't.

He just knew that he had limited words, and didn't want to waste any.

The girl had left.

When had the sun begun to set?

The Father was here again, and the boy with the golden eyes.

They often came together.

Something was different though, they seemed...

There were doctors here.

More than one.

More than two.

Everyone was talking at once, or laughing, or crying.

More words were being whispered, filling up the space between the chair and the window, buzzing about like demented bees.

_Lucky break._

_Miracle._

_Regular checkups._

_Remission._

_Home._

_Kurt._

The Watcher watched as the boy with the golden eyes slipped his hand into the hand of the beautiful boy with the sad eyes and said the word again.

_Kurt._

The Watcher closed his eyes.

Kurt opened his.

"Hello Blaine, "the boy said softly, "I missed you. Take me home please."

Golden eyes looked into eyes that were no longer quite so sad and they both smiled.

Maybe there were more words left than they had both thought.


End file.
